


Shock of silver

by tismabel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Dreams, F/M, Gen, Gen or Het, Hallucinations, Healing, Mourning, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), twincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:11:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tismabel/pseuds/tismabel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I think the robot likes you.” He muses. </p><p>“He’s a child!” She says, incredulous. </p><p>“So are we.”</p><p>And before she can think, retorts “You’re not anything anymore brother.” Then he’s gone, as if saying it out loud is all it takes.</p><p>*</p><p>Wanda dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shock of silver

Like all the other things to do with her brother it happened with amazing speed. He went to sleep one night and woke up the next morning with a shock of silver hair in place of brown. Wanda narrows her eyes at him, suspicious that this is the harbinger of doom. She worries that her twin will soon transmute into some new incorporeal form that she won’t recognise. That he’ll leave her behind for good this time, a grudge she’s nursed since the first time he ran away from her side when they were young children.

“You don’t like it Wanda?”

“I am thinking about what will change next Pietro. What if you can’t stay still again, like when they first started the experiments.”

“You worry too much” He shrugs, all infuriating nonchalance. “Besides, I think it’s cool. All the ladies won't be able to get enough of my new look” He runs a hand through his silver mop and puffs out his chest a bit.

It’s such an insufferable pose that she momentarily forgets the dark cloud hanging over them.

“What ladies?” she scoffs. “You don’t see any other women in this god forsaken place and it takes more than a new hair-do to impress me.”

He seems to deflate a bit at that. She feels bad. Better than anyone she knows his bravado is all surface. That out of them both he is the one who is actually the most vulnerable.

“Brother, you don’t need to impress me…” She says, wrapping an arm around his waist and using her other hand to pinch his cheek. “…and I think it suits you very well.”

His smile suddenly beams down at her, pleased as he always is when she shows her approval. She feels his contentment humming beside her and thinks, not for the first time, that he seems to almost vibrate with energy these days. She wonders if this constant awareness is what being a twin is always like. Or is this some aberration born of their shared trauma? A state-of-being as manufactured as the Stark Industries weapons that started this whole mess.

 

***

 

Wanda is certain she is dying. She knows this because her dead brother, who is always very truthful, has helpfully explained things.

“Do you remember that Bonsai tree I got you for your birthday? How you over-pruned it and a few weeks later it had shrivelled up and died.”

She feels shame at the memory but knows what he's implying. Ultron has come along and snipped off all her limbs by taking her Pietro away. It's only a matter of time until the rest of her gets with the program and follows suit.

To be honest, she is glad to finally know for certain and hopes it won't take too long. Some days her loneliness feels like a gaping chasm she is stumbling around. The strain of suspense is wearing on her. Not knowing when she’ll finally slip over the edge and smash on the rocks below is unbearable. Dread about the future is nothing new for her, but before she had her brother’s steady brightness as a buoy to cling to.

“So you’ve come back here to scold me for being irresponsible when I was 11 years old? That’s rich coming from the boy who showed up one day with an adopted pregnant Guinea Pig.”

She rolls over to put her back to him, which she supposes isn't much of a protest when he's essentially an apparition in her mind. It's in the lonely hours just before dawn that she tends to have these little tēt-ə-tēts with him. Wanda isn't fooled for a moment that they don't mean something though. She of all people knows the power that dreams hold over the life.

“Go away Pietro. I need to sleep”

“You do sound tired sister.” He muses, “There’ll be bags under your eyes in the morning.”

She feels the phantom caress of his hand through her hair. If she wasn’t already well on her way back to oblivion she might roll her eyes at his comment. Probably a better option than crying, which would result in aforementioned dark circles and she won't give him the satisfaction.

 

***

 

At the new Avengers facility she settles in to a kind of routine. As routine as things get when one has the ability to warp reality and has joined a team of superheroes. Routine after one half of your soul has been ripped away.

It’s maybe not surprising then that of all the Avengers at the facility she finds the synthoid the easiest to talk to. She does all of the humans the courtesy of not invading their minds again, but even so she can see past their facades like a lamp shines through tissue paper. Captain America’s relentless hope is a thin veneer over a bone-deep sadness. The inscrutable Black Widow also seems to be biting back a recent heartache. Falcon spends most of the time off on errands or in hushed conversation with Steve, and Lt Rhodes eyes her with a wariness that she’s probably earned by messing with his best friends head.

But Vision is yet to be worn down by this world. He is fresh, un-soured by misfortune or the vagaries of time. He seems to her to float just above the world, one step to the left of this reality. She wants to join him there and so inevitably gravitates to his side in their training sessions.

More often than not they end up paired off. She can see how most of their teammates have a vague distrust of them, like they're bombs that might go off at any moment. She can’t blame them. For all she knows she might be.

 

***

 

“So, how are your new friends?”

Wanda is dreaming again. She knows this because there is something insubstantial about the body perched on the edge of her bed. Sure enough it looks exactly like her brother. Same mess of hair, same lithe muscles running under his skin. She reaches out to touch but pulls her hand back at the last moment. She doesn’t want to know for sure he's not there. Would prefer to leave the possibility open that any moment he’ll scoop her up in his arms and they’ll take off at lightning speed. She wants to feel the thrill of air rushing past her as she holds on tight.

“They aren’t my friend.” She protests. “They are… colleagues.”

“I think the robot likes you.” He muses.

“He’s a child!” She says, incredulous.

“So are we.”

And before she can think, retorts “You’re not anything anymore brother.” Then he’s gone, as if saying it out loud is all it takes.

 

***

 

“Do you think I have a soul? Or am I just a false imitation of life? Simulacra" Vision is holding onto her waist while they levitate past a wall

“I don’t think any of us have souls.” she replies as he places her on the ground and they continue to walk through the training facility woods. They are in the middle of an orienteering exercise, the purpose of which is beyond her.

“So you don’t believe your brother lives on in some other realm. I thought you would find that…” He seemed to be searching for the right word “…comforting.

No one else ever mentions Pietro, much less asks her how she feels about his death. They all dance around the topic, which she finds infuriating. But The Vision is direct in his innocent inquisitiveness, which is refreshing to her.

“You should talk to Thor about this. It was his hammer that bought you to life after all.”

“I shall do that.” He says as he grabs on to her again and they ascend over the next obstacle. She thinks about life and what it means to be lingering on when she'd really rather be with her sibling. She knows her brother would break her reverie right about now by rubbing a thumb over the crease forming between her eyes. The corners of her mouth turns up at the memory. He always teased her for taking everything so seriously.

The vision is staring at her quixotically and she knows he's wondering what's making her smile. “Pietro would find this conversation hilarious. He always thought I spent too much time in my head.”

“I think I would like your brother if I had known him.”

“I think he would like you too.” She grins as the wind whips her hair around and they fly through the forest.

 

***

 

He comes to her less now and rarely says anything when he does, just looks at her with sad eyes. Already he seems to be fading out, like a veil is shrouding him, creating some vast distance between them. She desperately needs to take in all his detail, his broad shoulders and smooth skin, to sear them in her mind because she finally knows that she is here to stay and he is elsewhere and they might not see each other again. The thought is like a wound, an overwhelming mortality that she can't avoid any longer.

In her room the spectre of her brother is gone and now she is alone.

 

***

 

She looks beyond and spies the earliest glow of dawn through the window. It is just peaking out over the trees on the horizon with promise and she welcomes it at last.

 

 

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> In fact it was me who did indeed bring a pregnant guinea pig home one day. My parents were most displeased. 
> 
> Back in the day I also wrote Simon & River Tam angst, which ended up in drawer somewhere. Thanks for delivering the raw goods again Joss. 
> 
> Don't forget, every time a comment is posted a fairy gets its wings.


End file.
